


Love Triangles

by AlphaStarr



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, Glasses, M/M, Multi, Other, specs sex, there are more warnings inside, this is a serious fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:03:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaStarr/pseuds/AlphaStarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their hearts are breaking all around you, they're destroying themselves, and you can't do shit to stop anything. After all, you're only glasses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Triangles

**Author's Note:**

> AR's perspective. You are the "love triangles" (e.g. triangular glasses); they are you.
> 
> An AR/Jake's specs story that I wrote in like 2 hours because I have feelings for this ship I love them so fucking much. I am literally sobbing because OTP feels and glasses and ugh it's so sad and so fucking perfect. The original post is floating around somewhere on my Tumblr. [Here, I think.](http://alpha-starr.tumblr.com/post/22494775525/love-triangles)
> 
> Also, just to reiterate: this story includes Specsexual!Mobile!AR, abiophilia (the love of nonliving [as in 'abiotic'] objects), automatonophilia (the love of inanimate objects that emulate humanity [e.g. sex dolls, wax sculptures, AR]), nonsentient!Jake's glasses, glasses-on-glasses sex (rape? ugh you never know with glasses), and sadstuck,

"I think I need to have an Autoresponder installed into my own glasses," Jake laughs to Dirk one day, trying his gosh darned best to appear attractive. You can see it, the clear signs of romantic-comedyesque flirting-- the fluttering eyelashes, the dreamy smile, the nervous way he runs his hand through his hair. It looks like there's an 85.234% chance Jake's got it bad for Dirk, you think. Real bad.

It distracts you from what Jake says. You don't want to talk about it. You don't want to talk about _them_.

"Why the hell'd you need something like that?" Dirk asks, absently flicking his gaze back to where Jane is talking to Roxy, almost undoubtedly about her Jake issues. Jake can't see Dirk's averted eyes; they are obscured behind you.

"Well, I... I thought it would be neat to have," Jake stumbles through his words, obviously not expecting that answer. You'd forgotten; thanks to your meddling, Jake is under the impression that Dirk likes him. The very idea is laughable, and all passes towards Jake were indeed ironic jokes.

It was all part of your plan to make sure Jane's affections for Jake didn't come to fruit. Once Jane got her hands on Jake, she'd never let go. You couldn't condemn Dirk, your very creator and, indeed, your other self, to a life so much like yours. He could have a chance with Jane, then.

(You secretly wish he favored Jake. It would make your own situation a hell lot easier to deal with.)

"The creation of the AR's pretty easy, but the glasses thing is a bit tough. I'm not sure we've got enough time for that," Dirk remarks offhandedly. His line of vision is still trained on Jane. You can feel his eyes peer through you, his gaze melting over Jane's full, gentle figure as if to create a cast-iron statuette of it to keep in his memory.

"You, uh, offered it to Jane yesterday, so I just thought I'd ask," Jake's rubbing the back of his head now, embarrassed. His face is reddening beneath his frames, and fuck if that isn't the hottest thing you've ever seen. Those specs, with that tint of rose tainting the very edge of that glass.

You avert your gaze, which isn't easy because you're fucking glasses. Everything about you is gaze. You can't afford to follow that line of thought right now. The very idea of thinking about it when you're literally on someone's face is disgusting.

"But that was yesterday," Dirk says, pushing you up his nose. You know he really means, "But that was Jane." He continues, "Sorry, I'm afraid you've missed the window of opportunity, broski."

If only Jake _hadn't_ \-- if he'd felt this way for Dirk back when he was thirteen, none of you would be having this issue. Especially since you have to contend with Dirk's juvenile crush on Jake yourself.

It's written into your programming, and now you are reflecting those feelings onto his glasses, you sick, sick freak. Literally; you are getting off on seeing yourself reflected in Jake's lenses, you disgusting pervert. You'd like to be on top of them for real, riding out those sexy, square frames, thrusting your temple tips-- both of them, you kinky shit-- up his unyielding bridge as he moans and writhes under you and fuck, you have a specsboner now.

You try to change your mind to something unsexy, so as to calm yourself before you spill your hot, impassioned data all over the rest of your files. Jane's glasses seem to do the trick, and she helpfully provides a visual by walking over to you right this minute.

"Jake," she says, and panic makes you lose your boner completely. What does she think she's doing? Fiddling with her skirt and averting her eyes-- oh _fuck_ , she still likes him-- she continues, "Jake, I need to talk to you."

Jake gives her this completely perplexed look and you would cry if you had tear ducts.

"Well, all righty then, what do you have to say?" he asks her, completely oblivious to her advances. Dirk isn't, and you feel him blink hard, as if disbelieving this was happening in front of his eyes. You know he'd hoped he would have just a little more time.

"It's something of a personal nature," she insists, and then requests, "I'd like to discuss it in private."

"Why, we're all chums here," Jake grins, that oblivious fool. "Whatever you've got to say to me, you can say in front of Dirk, as well, right?"

No. No. No. This can not end well. Fuck, you hate love triangles.

Jane looks at Dirk, who takes extra-care to look unaffected as he says, "It's cool. Go right ahead, I swear I won't bother you."

Jane understands the double entendre, but she misses the irony. She goes for it, that brave, stupid, girl.

"Jake, I just wanted to tell you," Jane takes a deep breath, "That I misspoke when I conversed with you earlier, regarding my feelings for you. Jake, I like you. I like you a lot."

You can feel Dirk's heart break. The water in his eyes is fogging up your lenses.

"I..." Jake looks completely dumbfounded, at a loss for words. "... I... I'm very, very sorry, Jane. I can't... I just... I don't feel that way about you."

"Oh," her voice is small, and you feel a pang of sympathy. "I... there's someone else you like, isn't there."

Jake looks at his feet, before awkwardly mumbling, "Yes."

Jane's shoulder's are shaking, and before anyone knows it, she blurts out, "It's Dirk, isn't it?"

Even she looks surprised that she said that out loud.

"I.. what..." Jake regrets going into private now, it's written all over his face like fucking Pesterchum message. He's flustered, blushing madly, and you hate yourself for enjoying the radiant red against those smooth black frames."Jane! I-- I mean, no that's just-- well, erm, uh..."

It takes him another minute or so to spit it out. Dirk stands awkwardly off to the side, silent, but giving you the perfect vantage point for when he says, in a nervous squeak, "Yes."

It seems there is a 100% chance that Dirk is positively aghast at the answer. After all, you and he are the same; it's just that you're glasses.

Already emotionally high-strung, Jane completely snaps at this reply, rounding on Dirk, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?"

"What?"

You wish you could see his face right now. He sounds absolutely mortified.

"You've done something," she growls, the tiaratop glowing red on her head. Oh, man, shit is about to go down. "With your fancy futuresque artificial intelligence and the robotics shit! Who knows, maybe you've resorted to mind control, too!"

Oh, fuck. No. You message Dirk, making your words appear on your screen:

TT: She doesn't know what she's saying, look at her tiaratop.  
TT: There's a 100% chance it's the Batterwitch's influence.  
TT: Don't let it shake you.

But, of course, love makes you blind.

"No, I didn't," his voice cracks the air, and it makes your robosentient heart snap with pain. He's you, and you're him; you can't help it. "Because I don't feel that way about Jake."

And then he tears you off his face and throws you to the floor, turning around and striding away. Without a doubt, he's wiping at his eyes. You were starting to feel moist; it was a matter of time before the dam broke.

You just watched three hearts break in front of your very lenses. Fuck.

Jane looks totally frozen, almost dead. Then, she runs off, presumably to look for Roxy.

Jake walks over to you, picks you up, and clutches you in his fist before he whispers, voice wavering, "Strider..."

You are tempted to reply, but there appears to be a 96.208% chance you'd just stress him out more. He pockets you and walks off. You don't know where because you can't see out of the pocket, but it's some sort of respiteblock.

He takes you out and puts you on the nightstand, just staring at you for a while. You feel a little self-conscious, seeing his eyes peer out from those frames. Then, he just sighs, puts his specs next to you, and rolls over, asleep.

You look towards his glasses. With dead, unseeing eyes, they stare right back at you, like the unliving glassiness of a marionette. Your heart breaks a little more, and you scoot yourself over to their smooth frames. If you just touch them a little, it couldn't hurt.

You softly rub your temple tip up against his. He is smooth plastic coating unyielding metal, and it soothes you. You caress up his earpieces up to his frames and slowly trace them across his bridge.

You imagine he would be shuddering with pleasure, leaning into your touch. His cool, metallic frames practically melt into your plastic temple tip, and you repress the urge to moan. You rub your nosepads against his, and fuck if this isn't heaven. You rut your most intimate of places together, frames clinking against each other in a sweet beat. Your temple tips are all over him, free to wander about disjointedly over his cool, dorkishly rectangular figure.

You imagine him screaming, green text over your screen, "Strider oh STRIDER! Mmmmnh give it to me i want to take your frame up my bridge! Oh those sexy triangles they can pleasure me like nothing else... nothing can reach up my bridge the way you can strider! Ungh! OH!"

And that's it for you.

You blow your data load.

As you come down from your orgasmic high, you realize with disgust just what you've done. You are horrified.

You have forced yourself on another pair of glasses.

One part of you says, "But he didn't say no."

The other, "But he can't say no. He's glasses."

And not even the sentient kind.

Sometimes, you wish you weren't, either.

You are Dirk Strider's Auto Responder and you really hate yourself.


End file.
